


Cherry Wine

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: From Eden [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Canon, Drinking to Cope, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam escapes from Bobby's panic room thanks to Cas, Dean and Sam get into a huge fight that ends with Dean telling him if he leaves he shouldn't come back. Taking off on his own, Dean spends two weeks working in Nebraska where he finds himself in an abusive situation that he (unhealthily) feels is therapeutic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> After When the Levee Breaks (4x21). Based on "Cherry Wine" by Hozier. 
> 
> *This depicts a very unhealthy relationship where two very broken people cope in different ways: Dean hurts himself and helps others like always, Morgan just hurts others. Dean is internal and Morgan is external in displaying anger. They both think they're helping themselves with these destructive behaviors. In no way is this meant to romanticize it; rather I hope it comes across as showing how it isn't helpful at all for anyone involved.

His skin felt raw, his nerves exposed. Despite not wanting to admit it, Alastair had broken him.  Then Castiel had turned against him and Sam had left him. Dean couldn’t breathe.

Dean Winchester was good at a great many things, but he was a master of self hatred. He had worked at it like a skilled craftsman, fueled by his desperation for approval and love. The beauty of self loathing was the breadth of the outlets to which he could introduce himself. There were as many ways as days of the week for him to practice his craft, not realizing that as he grew more proficient in finding someone or something to consume him how much he was letting himself drift away.

The Impala pulled up to the Roadhouse as the antics of the rowdier crowd hit full swing. Dean sat in the car with the engine off for a few minutes, his mind somewhere else. This felt repetitive, a routine of alcohol and possible bar fights, a one night stand or two. He hadn’t registered why he’d driven to Harvelle’s, but the small hope of self preservation had done the navigating this trip.

Jo was out of town, which he was grateful for. He was in no state to see her. She’d try to take care of him, and he would let her. He wanted to hurt, not to be loved. Ellen gave him a sideways glance as he settled into an empty table, throwing a towel down on the bar and popping the top on a beer, taking a long swig before pulling a draft for Dean. She brought it to him and sat down.

“What are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Ellen. Nothing’s here. Just taking a break.”

Ellen narrowed her eyes. “Where’s Sam?”

“We’re, uh, taking some time,” he said, forcing a smile.

“Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. And don’t cause me any grief or I’ll kick your ass seven ways from Sunday,” Ellen warned.

Dean gave a two finger salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

She stood and crossed her arms, looking over Dean as if she were taking inventory. Seemingly satisfied, she pushed the beer to him and turned, heading back behind the bar.

 

Before long, the noise got too much for him as it tended to do. He stepped outside, taking a deep breath of air that didn’t quite seem to fill his lungs. He tried again, this time staring up at the stars. The cool spring air bit at him, but he stood locked in place. His eyes traced Orion and he wished Sam was there so he could ask what some of the other constellations were. He was sure he’d know that kind of thing.

“Excuse me, you got a light?”

Dean looked down to see a small and pretty girl-next-door kind of gal. “You smoke?”

“No. It’s for my brother,” she said, lifting her chin and looking over her shoulder. A group of three guys stood on the other side of the door. Surprisingly rough fingers with nails cut short pulled her honey brown hair back into a ponytail, wrapping an elastic hair tie around it. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and looked up at the sky. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure. Didn’t you want a lighter?”

She let her eyes glance over to him, keeping her head tilted toward the stars. “Nah. He needs to quit anyway.”

 

He only meant for it to be a one night stand, but he liked her too much. Forward and fiery, she’d challenged him to drinking shots and gotten into a fight with a guy who was giving her brother a hard time, breaking his nose before Ellen could even raise her voice to kick them all out. Dean knocked his buddy out and waved Ellen off, letting her know he’d handle it. He scooped the girl up, throwing her over his shoulder and taking her outside while she was kicking and screaming obscenities at the guy who was left holding his hand over his nose, blood running down his face. He finally learned her name when her brother and his friends came chasing out after them.

Dean stayed with her family at their nearby farm for two weeks, picking up some money helping her father and brother burn the fields to get ready to turn and pitching hay. He slept in an addition built onto the stables that had a bed and a bathroom. It could be more accurately described as a water closet, giving him a small but adequate place to shower after a day out in the fields. There were few small furnishings; a blue and white quilt brought a little bit of color to the stale room that had been closed up over the winter. It took a few days to air out, but he finally got the stifling dusty smell gone. It was a simple setup, and perfect for Dean.

Morgan was volatile and might as well have been made of nitroglycerin. She was sweet, but absolutely fierce. She obviously had her issues that Dean wasn’t about to try to delve too deep into; they felt too similar to his own. She had no mother, didn’t like herself, and turned to alcohol too often. They fell together easily. She returned from work every day around the time he’d be about to clean off the dirt and dust that the wind had blown onto him while he was sweating out in the sun. Morgan didn’t seem care that he was filthy. She’d burst into the room hot and fast, her blue eyes burning into him. He’d pick her up and carry her into the small standing shower, her legs wrapped around his thick middle and lips busy kissing his. Once he was rinsed off, he’d take her to his bed in the same manner.

That first Friday night after he'd been hired on, she didn’t come into his room. The quiet got to him after a while, and he missed her. She finally fell through the door drunk and angry sometime past eleven. When she cried and told him she wished he'd have been there, he promised to go out with her the next night so she’d calm down enough to get into bed and sleep. She curled up on him, her head on his chest, slowly falling into soft snores. Dean played with the strands of her thick hair, singing a song quietly while she drifted, making himself sleepy as well. He liked having someone to take care of; it distracted him from the reason he’d come out here. Her hair smelled like cherries.

 

Saturday Ellen had watched closely as this local girl was stirring more shit in her establishment, but what bothered her the most seemed to be Dean being with her. She nearly lost it when Dean was innocently talking to another girl while he was getting a beer and when he went back to their table, Morgan left a stinging slap across his face. She yelled at him, called him a piece of shit, and slapped him again. And he let her.

But that night she curled against his chest and he sang to her while she fell asleep, lulled by the sound of her breathing.

 

Morgan didn’t come by Wednesday afternoon, so Dean went to the Roadhouse to avoid being alone with his thoughts. Ellen poured him a beer and leaned over the bar with her mom face on, squinting at the cut in his lip.

“You wanna tell me how you got your lip busted open?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. And if it’s that Morgan girl, you better beat feet and get out of here before I do something to that little tramp. Don’t let her - or anyone for that matter - treat you like that, Dean.”

“It looks bad, but it’s fine.”

Ellen narrowed her eyes. “You know I don’t believe you one bit, right?”

Dean sighed. “I know.”

Morgan was sitting on his bed when he got back. She asked where he was, and if he was off with that girl from the bar. They argued until she was pounding his chest with her fists, tears streaming down her face while she furiously screamed at him, accusing him of sneaking around with some other girl. He yelled back at her, telling her if she wanted to hit him, to just hit him. She exhausted herself beating into his arms and chest until she collapsed into tears. Dean sat her down on his bed and knelt at her feet, his arms sliding around her and hugging her back together. He noticed immediately that her clothes smelled of cigarette smoke. She’d been the one out with someone else, but he didn’t care. 

 

Every night that she wasn’t resting on Dean’s chest, he stared at the ceiling with his arms crossed, wondering what he was doing. He needed to get back to Bobby’s, to make things right with Sam. But he wished Morgan would walk through the door. He didn’t care if she yelled at him or hit him or talked about how after her mother died how horrible her father was and cried - he just wanted her there. All of the bad that came with that mess of a girl was worth it when she made him feel less alone.

The nights she was there and hadn’t been drinking, Morgan loved him with every ounce of her and more. Those nights were long, the hours filled with drawn out conversation and apologies, ending in a slow fuck and breathy whispers. She didn’t have a bit of cigarette smoke on her; she just smelled like cherries and tasted sweet, making Dean drunk on her like wine.

  
At the end of two weeks, Dean had finished up working at the farm and was trying to decide if he’d find more work around or if he’d head back to Sioux Falls. The car idled outside of the Roadhouse. He was going to have a beer and mull things over before he’d seen Jo walk in with her bag, and he still was not ready to face that girl. She was too good. He thought about driving back to Morgan, maybe tell her goodbye and hope she wouldn’t be furious at him. He put the Impala into drive and headed east - as soon as hit hit Omaha, he could get on I-29 North and be at Bobby’s in less than three hours.


End file.
